


dirty deeds done for millions of dollars

by WordsAreScribbles



Category: Original Work
Genre: Alcohol, Gen, Original Character(s), Zombie Apocalypse, implied tho, mr cooper cuts a bitch
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-17
Updated: 2016-11-17
Packaged: 2018-08-31 14:58:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 967
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8582806
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WordsAreScribbles/pseuds/WordsAreScribbles
Summary: A man is taken to a mysterious warehouse and tied to a chair during the apocalypse. What's the worse that could happen?





	

**Author's Note:**

> so! this is actually my first work i've ever posted anywhere about just my ocs. so yeah! enjoy, uh,, let me know if u wanna see me write more abt mr. cooper or anybody!

"Get off'a me, you bastards!" The man yelled, violently lunging at the man in the suit to his left - or as best he could lunge, given he was tied to a chair. The chair's metal-footed legs screeched on the floor as it was suddenly scooted forward. The two men guarding him each grabbed one of his arms to restrict his movement. Neither of them said a word. 

 

"What the fuck are we waitin' for, huh?" The restrained man questioned, quieter this time but the disdain in his voice everlasting. "Either of you two gonna throw a punch or am I wastin' my time here?"

 

"I trust the drive was comfortable?" A deep voice inquired as the two doors the man in the chair was facing towards swung open. The sound of high heels clicking on concrete floor rang throughout the large warehouse. "I did explicitly order my assistants to rough you up a minimal amount."

 

The man in the chair gave the person with a deep voice a suspicious once-over. He was a well-groomed man with clean-cut chestnut hair (with a perfect curl in the front that the man in the chair thought he must have spent all morning styling), and piercing brown eyes that looked at him like a narrow-beam searchlight. His smirk was adorned with a dark shade of purple lipstick that matched his stilettos heels. A grey blazer and a purple tie was pretty much exactly what you would expect to see on a man like him, but the grey pencil skirt and panty hose...not so much.

 

"Who the hell are you?" The man in the chair was still giving him a wary look.

 

"You are Mr. Leroy Baronovski, is that correct?" The man in heels asked this with the certainty of a statement, ignoring his question. "Or 'Baron' to your friends?"

 

"What's it to you?"

 

"I am Mr. Cooper," The man gave him a smile. Baron felt small and insignificant sitting in the chair with the man in heels towering over him. It pissed him off. "Pleasure."

 

"Well, Mr. Cooper," Baron spat the man's name. "I got no business with you."

 

"Ah," Mr. Cooper chuckled. "Very observant, Leroy! You don't concern me, no, I've had my men escort you here so that I can question you about someone I do have business with - your brother."

 

"Wh -" Baron furrowed his brow. "Jimmy?"

 

"James Baronovski, yes," Mr. Cooper gave a terse nod to one of his assistants, both of whom were still holding down Leroy's arms. His assistant nodded back, emotionless with his shades and steely frown. He glanced back to the man in the chair. "Cocaine addict, once of my most generous clients -"

 

"Dead," Baron interrupted. He stared at the floor intently. "Jimmy's dead."

 

Mr. Cooper frowned. He made his way to one of his assistants and whispered something in his ear. The man in the suit nodded. He removed a small blade from a pocket on the inside of his blazer and handed it to Mr. Cooper, who returned to where he stood formerly in front of Baron, knife in hand. 

 

"You know, Leroy," He gazed down at the weapon, gliding one perfectly manicured finger across the flat side of the blade. "I don't like being lied to."

 

"Well, you're in fuckin' luck, 'cause I ain't lyin'!" Baron snapped, attempting to lunge forward menacingly but failing. He bared his teeth like a dog.

 

"One more fib, Leroy, and you won't be lying," Mr. Cooper smiled. "Mr. Baronosvski, your brother was purchasing two kilos a month of my product supply up until two weeks ago. I'd like to know why my most loyal customer discontinued his business with me without notice."

 

"What are you, a fuckin' idiot? I been tellin' you, he's dead! Jimmy's fuckin' dead, he's..." Baron's eyes lost the anger they had been holding, and he looked Mr. Cooper directly in the eye. "My brother is dead."

 

Mr. Cooper gave him a gentle smile. He took a step forward, and bent over to Baron's eye level, putting a hand on the chair behind his head. Baron's eyes widened and he took a nervous gulp as Mr. Cooper brought his face closer to his.

 

"Leroy..."

 

"...Yeah?" Leroy's eyes wandered down to the man's plump lips.

 

Mr. Cooper brought the blade up to Baron's face and drew a long cut down his cheek, cutting through the flesh.

 

Baron screamed in pain as his cheek and gum was cut open, blood filling his mouth. Mr. Cooper took a step back, unfazed. He handed the knife back to his assistant, both of whom were still as unfazed as ever. Mr. Cooper smiled as Baron brought a hand to his cheek, only to look at it to see a few teeth in a pool of blood and screamed.

 

"Your brother, Leroy," Mr. Cooper returned to the topic at hand. "Where is he?"

 

"Dead!" Baron gurgled through the blood spilling down his throat.

 

"Hm," He thought to himself for a moment as Baron continued his painful exclamations. He then smiled softly, and bent forward to kiss Leroy on his non-punctured cheek. "Alright, Leroy. I believe you."

 

Mr. Cooper took a step back to enjoy his bloody work for a moment before turning around and sashaying back to the doors he had walked through formerly. He whispered to another man in a suit who had walked in at some point and had been standing by the door. 

 

"He's telling the truth. Kill him," The man nodded. Mr. Cooper smirked and glanced towards the man in the suit who had given him the blade. "Oh, and, uh. Have a dirty vodka martini on my desk after you do." 

 

He turned back to the doors and pushed them open, walking back inside, his dark purple stilettos clicking on the floor.

**Author's Note:**

> clickity click click gimme some dick


End file.
